


Dirk Does the Delta Quadrant

by lildogie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Artificial Intelligence, Bondage, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Cronus, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Language Barrier, M/M, Pitch-flirting, Psionic Bondage, Robots, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Trans Dirk Strider, Trans Male Character, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildogie/pseuds/lildogie
Summary: Humans don't do a lot of business with Alternians; it's only recently that trolls stopped shooting down Terran ships on sight. But Dirk Strider is an entrepreneur with adaptive AI and kickass robots burning a hole in his inventory, and he won't let a silly thing like the lack of proper translation software stop him. It's an alien civilization with a complex hierarchy and a billion-year history; how hard could their language possibly be?
Relationships: Cronus Ampora/Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider/Equius Zahhak, Dirk Strider/Karkat Vantas, Sollux Captor/Dirk Strider
Comments: 28
Kudos: 95
Collections: Drone Season 2020





	Dirk Does the Delta Quadrant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizardlicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/gifts).



There were messes on Dirk Strider's ship that were literally years old. Stacks of documents and half-finished projects in circuitry or felt, left where they would catch his eye so he wouldn't forget them. Only his brain edited them out pretty quickly, so the piles only grew. Especially after he flipped out at Hal—his shipboard computer—for sending a robotic hit man to disrupt Dirk's filing system. 

Occasionally, Dirk would actually refocus on one of the piles and vow to come back to the half-a-plush whose proboscis emerged like a drowning man's arm from a sea of metal and paper. Sometimes, he actually did. But there were no timelines on these things. It had to happen organically.

Consequently, it had taken a while to force himself far enough down memory lane to recall in which corner of his previous workroom this particular hard drive lurked. Dirk pulled it out at last from under a heap of pamphlets—on religion? Maybe diet?—that'd been foisted on him in the Gamma Quadrant during a frustrating but profitable expedition. He forgot what he'd kept those for. A scathing collage? Sales strategy analysis? Fuck knew. He should probably recycle them. But... he'd be mad if he remembered later what he wanted them for, so... best to let them lie.

Dirk blew the dust off the hard drive and squinted at the cable dangling from it. The connector was at least a generation out of date, and the hard drive was two or three.

"If you plug that into me, I'll vent you into space," said Hal, speaking with Dirk's voice. Hal had other voice banks he could use, but he didn't, because he was an asshole.

"No one asked you," Dirk said through his teeth. 

It was a thankfully shorter hunt to find an old computer that, with two adapters playing intermediary, would read the contents of the unearthed drive. Dirk gave a satisfied huff.

"You're not seriously going to use that," said Hal.

Dirk ignored him and started writing tweaks.

"You never finished it. The dictionaries predate the Second Alternian Armistice and Technology Exchange. And you're not going to successfully port it to—really? Your shades? That program isn't even vaguely compatible. Just let me interpret for you."

"I can turn your voice off, you know."

"Do you want me to open my main banks so you can toss your clogs in, too?"

"Just take the night off, Hal. You've earned it." By being the biggest shit in the known universe, but richly.

"Look, I don't care what they do to _you,_ but I take it personally when I get shot at because you have no people skills. These aren't Carapacians, _Captain._ It took humans two hundred years to cozy up to Alternia enough that they wouldn't destroy Earth ships on sight, and you want to go in there with interpretation software that wasn't even _into_ beta? You're going to start a war."

"I'm going to sell some hardware, and you're going to keep your digital schnoz out of it."

Dirk had to link a second computer to the first in order to load the program into the HUD built into his—very cool, not at all last-millennium—shades, but he did it. Dirk put his glasses on. He flicked his eyes to the left, then down, and opened the interpretation program.

The display flickered, then stabilized. The interface was laggy, but it did work. He went through setup and optimized as best he could. He didn't need the bells and whistles—most of them had never been finished anyway. Rough translation would do. After all, his product lineup spoke for itself.

"Seriously. Dirk. Just let me do this. You can go back to having your snit once we're out of Alternian space."

"If I find so much as a digital whiff of you anywhere near me today—even if I find it ten years from now—I'll purge your banks of unlikely animal friends videos."

"Dirk—"

"Even 'Kitten comforts elderly horse buddy after surgery with healing purrs.'"

Hal didn't answer.

"Do we understand each other?" Dirk asked.

Hal responded with a beep sequence from a vintage space opera. Dick.

  


* * *

  
Before captain and computer had their falling out, they had successfully docked at the space station with the unpronounceable name, designated on Earth star charts as Delta-6-12-69. Docking procedures had been handled by this thickset, grumpy troll called Vantas who was sort of cute in the manner of an ornery elder cat. Despite his grumbling, there hadn't been any issues with Dirk's credentials or docking permissions. Dirk had been authorized to enter the station and move around at will. 

Even so, stepping off his ship felt a little like walking into an Old West saloon without his six-shooter on his hip. His footsteps on the ramp sounded exceedingly loud in the docking bay. The other ships in there all looked Alternian, and there was no one around, although he spotted plenty of security cameras.

The first test came at the docking bay doors, where there was a keypad covered in Alternian symbols. Dirk flicked his eyes through his HUD menus to engage text translation. The view through his glasses fragmented, blurred, pixelated, and then resolved, Alternian symbols replaced with Arabic numerals. Okay. Simple enough. There shouldn't be any issue here, since it was a straight one-to-one. Dirk called up the code he'd been issued, which the program translated more quickly. He punched it in.

The keypad uttered a soft digital trill, and the doors slid open.

"All right," Dirk murmured. "Visual interface working fine. That's a start." He took a breath and strode through, straight into someone's tits.

Sound stabbed him through the right eardrum: about a half-second of someone's voice followed by a burst of white noise at a dangerous volume. Dirk grimaced, teeth grinding as he floundered to adjust the settings.

"Sorry—hold on—translator's not working..." Dirk took a step back from the impressive chest he'd just buried his face in. He glanced up as he wrestled the volume under control. "Sorry, uh... Oh. Vantas, right? Hi."

Wow, the security officer had looked smaller onscreen. Dirk remembered trolls were big, of course, but he hadn't been through Alternian space in a few years. Judging by the stripes on the arms and legs of this guy's black uniform, he was warmblooded, and those were supposed to be the _smaller_ end of the spectrum, but Dirk was nose-to-sternum with this guy, and Vantas's shoulders had to be at least half again the width of Dirk's. He was still cute... but like, a cute tank, with a thick layer of muscle rounding his shoulders and chest, and very biteable forearms visible below his rolled-up sleeves. 

"It's _Executioner_ Karkat Vantas," the troll said, in between bursts of garbled sound.

Dirk flinched again. "Wait, what?" He didn't care for that word. "I _am_ authorized to board the station, right?" He held up a finger. "Hang on. I'm sure I can fix this..."

Through the menus flitting across Dirk's lenses, the big guy's expression darkened, his mouth twisting off to one side. Dirk caught a glimpse of a blunt, but large, fang.

"Okay... okay... I think I've got it," Dirk said. He took a deep breath and huffed it out. "Hi. Karkat? We spoke yesterday, when I docked. My translator's on the fritz, so sorry if I say anything weird, but..."

Karkat Vantas—Executioner? No. Right? No—leaned back a little and crossed his arms over his chest, making his pecs bulge to an unfair degree. Dirk wouldn't have minded sticking his face between those again, but Karkat didn't look like he was offering. The troll tilted his head to one side, glaring at Dirk with one eyebrow raised. "What did you just say?"

Huh. The troll's speech was coming out in smooth English, intonation and all. Input working better than output, maybe.

"My translator..." Dirk pointed to his shades as if that would clear anything up. "Isn't working right."

"You sounded like less of an idiot yesterday," said Karkat.

That had to be a translation error. He should probably stick with simple phrases, and try not to strain the software's capabilities. It was an adaptive AI, like most of his work, but it had been sitting around without input for almost a decade. He couldn't expect too much out of it, especially not fresh out of the box. Or stale out of the junk pile.

Dirk sighed, realizing he was hurting his bargaining position before he'd gotten inside the station proper. The best he could hope was that security didn't chat a lot with the traders and techies. He enunciated carefully. "Could you say that again? I'm not sure my interface is catching it. Speak more simply, please."

Karkat leaned back, both eyebrows rising this time. Dirk wasn't sure if that expression was "not impressed" or "about to eat your face." Hal was going to be so smug if it was the latter.

The troll slapped his hand to the door by Dirk's shoulder and leaned in. The hairs all over Dirk's body stood up, his muscles tensing in a way that was both unpleasant and anticipatory. It was hard enough sometimes telling whether _humans_ were trying to fight you or fuck you when they got up in your face...

"I don't know if I should consider you mentally fit to go around unsupervised on this station," Karkat said. "Maybe you should take your scrawny little carcass back onto your ship and fly away to play with aliens your own size."

The sad thing was? Dirk still wasn't sure.

He looked at the troll over his shades, smiling his most charming salesman smile. "Listen, big guy, it's not really fair, you heaping abuse on me like this. After all it cost me coming out this far, you've kinda got me over a barrel..." Dirk trailed off as the troll's eyes widened. Either he was fucking up or his program was.

"A barrel? You don't have a barrel _in_ you, human."

The fuck did Vantas think a barrel was? And also, how dare he? He was Dirk Strider. If he was supposed to have a barrel in him, he goddamn well had one. Several, even.

"Try me," Dirk said. "I bet I have more than _you._ "

Vantas's incredulous smile bared a lot of teeth. They looked sharper, at this range. "Care to prove that?"

"Any time."

The troll grabbed Dirk by the shoulders and shoved him against the docking bay door. Dirk's fists curled, but then Karkat's face was plastered to his, and a surprisingly soft pair of lips sealed his mouth. What do you know? They _were_ flirting. 

Vantas's hands on his shoulders felt like vises. Not one to take a kiss lying down, Dirk pressed his tongue against the troll's lips. Karkat growled, but opened his mouth, tongue seemingly attempting to pummel Dirk's. One large hand migrated to Dirk's throat. When Dirk started in surprise, the other hand shoved his shoulder back.

Fight or flight thrilled along Dirk's nerves, his muscles tensing to at least attempt to push the guy off, but Karkat's hand only rested at his throat—wrapping most of the way around—and when the weight over his arteries did get a little suspicious, Karkat's tongue made a convincing argument for Dirk not to protest.

Karkat's lips slid from Dirk's mouth to his ear. He growled again, which sent a ripple of electricity along Dirk's shoulders. Dirk needed to learn that. "How many Slush Puppies do you think you can drink?" Karkat purred into his ear.

Well, his program was spouting gibberish, now. Fuck it. Dirk didn't want to stop making out. If it translated to a slushie, how bad could it be?

"How many you got, Tall, Dark, and Touchy?" 

Karkat snorted, and bit his ear. Then both hands seized Dirk's shoulders and pushed. Dirk slid down the docking bay door like his knees were just a suggestion and landed hard on his ass. "Hey, easy!"

"The cat says meow?" Karkat sneered down at him.

"Hey, fuck you—" Dirk started to get up, but Karkat shoved him down again. That broad palm curved under Dirk's chin to tilt his face up. It was authoritative in a way that made Dirk tighten up inside, and the protest died on his lips.

"You said as many as I've got." Karkat gave his jaw a squeeze before releasing him and Dirk thumped his own shoulders against the door to punish himself for having the self-control of a particularly dim moth. It was the pecs, wasn't it? It was always the pecs. His eyes eagerly followed those large hands as they undid the front of Karkat's pants.

Dirk went still.

Karkat broke into a wide grin. It would have been incongruously cute if, considerably closer to Dirk's face, there weren't a fat, red tentacle like an octopus arm on steroids protruding from Karkat's fly. It wove through the air like a dazed snake emerging from a charmer's basket, glistening with god knew what kind of fluid.

"So. That's your dick, huh?"

Karkat's expression darkened and he seized Dirk's hair. Dirk grunted as his head was pulled back, throat stretched taut. 

"You don't have to rip my fuckin' hair ou—" The tentacle swiped across his face and Dirk went blank again, processing. He'd never touched a dolphin, but the skin felt how he imagined they would, smooth and rubbery, water resistant, and _wet._ Shockingly slippery. Fuck, that must be convenient for... things. It had little blunt spines at seemingly random intervals all over it, and came to a neat little blunt tip—which slapped Dirk sharply on the cheekbone.

Dirk blinked several times. It was hard to wrest his attention from this cross between the fattest, juiciest gummy worm he'd ever laid eyes on and the stuff that populated his cache of ancient 2D porn, but when he managed, Karkat still looked pissed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dirk said. "Get over here before I say anything else dumb." He grabbed a double-handful of Vantas's—firm, muscular, _damn_ —ass, and did his best python impression on Karkat's anaconda.

The sharp intake of breath above his head, followed by a groan, was worth nearly choking himself. They both recovered quickly, and both Karkat's hands wrapped around Dirk's head this time, pulling him forward. Dirk's fingers dug into Karkat's cheeks as the troll pushed his way past Dirk's tongue. This thing was way more flexible than a dick, curving without issue despite the awkward positioning. Dirk jerked back, but the grip on his head didn't let him go anywhere. The tentacle in his mouth wriggled like a cat trying to fit into a box half its size, and bullied its way down his throat.

Instinctual alarm flushed Dirk's skin the second he couldn't breathe. His hands trembled on Karkat's ass, then dug in, dragging Karkat toward him as pride won out over caution. Stupid... sexy... asshole. Slush Puppies or whatever the fuck. Dirk was almost... slightly... kind of sure that the guy didn't want a dead alien hanging off his dick, so he was probably going to let him breathe at some point. Dirk _probably_ didn't need to stab him in the thigh. He wondered if trolls had femoral arteries.

Karkat rocked his hips forward until Dirk's jaw ached with the stretch and the rough fabric of Karkat's uniform was abrading his chin. Dirk looked up to find the bastard smirking at him. His thumbs stroked over Dirk's temples, mockingly sweet while the bastard held Dirk's nose against his belly and—was the fucker _flicking_ him in the esophagus? But Dirk refused to tap out. He would pass out on the jerk's cock if he had to. 

He was doing his best to be a gentleman, too, and keep his teeth away from the troll's skin, but it wasn't easy when that tentacle was acting more like a liquid than a solid. It expanded wherever there was the slightest space, pinning Dirk's tongue and pressing up against his soft palate.

Just as Dirk's lungs were beginning to shiver in his chest, Karkat crooned, "Compatibility confirmed," thumbs stroking over Dirk's cheekbones. Dirk rolled his eyes, part of his brain beginning to run bug fixes even as oxygen got scarce. He spared one hand from Karkat's ass to flip him off.

Karkat laughed and finally pulled out of his throat, letting the last few inches of his tentadick wriggle over Dirk's tongue. Dirk's nostrils flared, dragging in a grateful breath. The grip on his head hadn't loosened in the slightest, and Dirk didn't want to sacrifice the dignity it would take to struggle, so he just glared, taking measured breaths through his nose instead of the gulps of air he wanted.

"Good thing I'm a cat person," Karkat said, and rammed his dick back down Dirk's throat.

What the hell was this about cats? The likelihood of completely parallel slurs or genital euphemisms seemed low, so—

"Pay attention," Karkat growled, yanking Dirk's hair. Those heavy hips began to roll into him, fucking Dirk's throat like he didn't need it for trivial shit like eating or breathing. Experimentally, Dirk tried pushing Karkat's hips back, but only got his elbows slammed into the titanium door for his troubles.

He wasn't sure why, but Dirk was confident that if he made a fuss, Karkat would get off him. The guy could probably snap him in half, but Dirk didn't get the impression of actual malice—major assholery, yeah, but not genuine cruelty. So Dirk relaxed his shoulders and his neck, letting his head rest between Karkat's palms. Vantas's eyebrows rose, and then his eyes narrowed in pleasure, a low rumble emitting from his chest.

He didn't seem to need Dirk's help, so Dirk dropped his hands after one last grope and yanked at his own clothes. He stuffed his right hand down his pants and his left under his shirt and jacket. His fingers sank into his pectoral as others circled his clit—no delicate turntable touch here, he was already hard and throbbing and in no mood to be gentle with himself, even had he had the extra coordination to spare.

He couldn't even moan, which may have been a mercy, but Dirk's eyelids sagged as he gazed up at the troll, golden eyes going hazy with pleasure. He wasn't sitting at a good angle to finger himself, or he'd have tried to match the rhythm as Karkat fucked his throat, but just imagining it was good. Imagine what that fat, slippery tentacle would feel like wriggling between his legs, that liquid shape going in easy and then muscling him open, filling him up and stroking him with the bumps that were probably visibly rippling his throat right now—

Dirk convulsed silently—well, voicelessly. His head thunked against the door. His hips jerked and stuttered as his fingers sped up, urging his orgasm along like a hungry diner beating on the bottom of a ketchup bottle.

He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers down hard against the left side of his clit as the pulses continued. He swallowed and Karkat groaned, his nails pricking Dirk's scalp as he pulled him all the way down on his dick. Dirk should've been mad, but the disregard for his ability to breathe was doing it for him; Dirk pressed down harder on his clit, hips jerking again. Karkat's tentacle bulged at the base, making Dirk's jaw creak. He felt that bulge travel down the length of the tentacle, stretching his throat as it went.

Then there was a rush of hot fluid through his esophagus and into his stomach. Dirk came again, partially just in surprise, light-headed as Karkat ground against his lips, growling as he pumped a few more bursts of fluid down Dirk's throat... and then a while longer, apparently just to enjoy the afterglow.

Karkat took his sweet time sliding that monster out of Dirk's throat—and the wet slap across his cheek was definitely deliberate. Dirk gave a sharp cough before gasping for air, then wiped his hand on his underwear before pulling it out, not wanting dripping fingers to give away exactly how much he'd enjoyed that.

Karkat laid hands on his shoulders and lifted him back onto his feet in a casual display of muscle that would've revved Dirk's engine if it wasn't idling just now. Then he was pinned again, Karkat's tongue spearing into his mouth. The troll smirked at him when he pulled back. "Don't make any trouble on my station, bulgeflea."

Dirk stared after him, pulse throbbing in more places than was dignified. _Program's borked,_ he thought in the direction of Karkat's ass. _But it wasn't a_ war.

  


* * *

  
He spent some time bumming around the station, getting the lay of the land, before heading back to his ship, just so Hal wouldn't sniff out his fuckup. He made sure not to talk to anyone else while he was out.

  


* * *

  
That night, Dirk spent hours working on the program—that he'd named Junior—after locking Hal out of his quarters as best he could. The real problem was how little dictionary data was available. Hal's interpretation algorithms were based not only on dictionaries gleaned from Earth and Alliance archives, but from analysis of intercepted transmissions and context gleaned while speaking to actual Alternians. All of that sat in Hal's personal databanks, where Dirk couldn't get at it without alerting him to what he was doing. There was more now available to the general spacefaring public than there had been when Dirk first wrote the old program, and the program had taught itself some context from the interaction with Karkat, but it was still nothing like the volume of data it would need to consume to rival Hal's translations.

Dirk finally put it down sometime around dawn by the ship's clock. If he had to swallow some more dick—bulge, actually, he'd updated his glossary to reflect—that wasn't the end of the world. But he didn't want to get blown out of the sky any more than his asshole computer did. Dirk poked his glasses as the updated program loaded onto them. "I'll talk real slow an' loud, okay, Junior? Help a guy out."

  


* * *

  
There was a buff cat-girl on duty at the docking bay doors when Dirk rolled out the next day with Squarewave in tow, and Junior networked to interpret for both of them. She let him pass after a quick look at his documentation—Dirk went with a smile and a nod, and his face untentacled. Since that worked, it was what he stuck with as he moved through the corridors on his way to the main public spaces.

At the center of the station there was an open park with some oddly colored but well-manicured grass and garden features, benches for people to chill out, and two overhead light sources that glowed pink and green, casting the scene in a surreal glow.

Around the park area were two floors of shops, arranged in curving tiers like amphitheater seating. Dirk had given them a cursory once-over the previous day, but been leery of entering. Today, he was resolved to try.

He'd waited until the schedule Karkat gave them upon docking indicated businesses opened, and despite the dim lighting throughout the common spaces, there was plenty of activity, trolls moving around behind their glass storefronts, and patrons stopping by. All Dirk had to do was pick a potential customer. Now who looked like they were in the market for some premium robotics?

Dirk installed himself on a bench almost appropriate for someone his size, near the center of the park where he had a good view of half the shops and could crane his neck backwards for a look at the rest. Squarewave posted up between the bench and an ornamental shrub that looked like a woman's head with very tall horns. He went into idle mode, quietly rapping about their surroundings. It formed a meditative backdrop to Dirk's sales considerations. 

As he scanned the windows facing him, he observed an array of products whose uses he could only surmise, but those surmised uses were intriguing. He saw some raw materials and components he could probably use. As he squinted, trying to peer into a shop that looked like it might house an industrial laser saw, an extremely buff troll unlocked the door and went inside. He wore a blue symbol—at first glance, Dirk thought it was the Earth symbol for male, but it was Earth Saggitarius, or at least close to it. The light went on and Dirk saw him sit in front of the machine he'd been ogling.

"Good as any," Dirk muttered. Even if that guy wasn't in the market for new machines, he _owned_ some sorta heavy equipment that might need maintenance. Dirk had maintenance bots. And what he didn't have now, he could throw together before they had to leave port. He slapped his hands to his thighs and stood.

"Checkin' out Zahhak's place?" said someone behind him whose tongue was making messy love to its esses. Dirk turned around.

This troll was about the same height as Vantas, but narrower than Dirk from the shoulders right on down. He had fine, angular features, from the long ears and sharp cheekbones to the chin that could probably bust someone's skull if applied correctly. Not to mention the teeth his mouth seemed to struggle to contain. He had a goldenrod symbol on his chest—Gemini. Had anyone ever figured out why trolls were all running around with Earth zodiac signs on their chests? 

Dirk pointed toward the shop, where the large troll's back was still in view, rippling invitingly as he bent to pick something up. How did a back that broad taper to a waist that small? Just made you wanna slide your hands around it and _squeeze..._ "Zahhak?" Dirk asked. He was going to keep it simple. Honestly. He was not going to break his poor baby AI's brain, and Junior was gonna show his appreciation by keeping Dirk's orifices unmolested.

"Zahhak," the skinny troll repeated, grinning to reveal even more teeth. He tapped his narrow chest. "Sollux," he said, the first letter of each name revealing a forked tongue from beneath his upper teeth. He pointed at Dirk, eyebrows high. "You human?"

Dirk flushed. "Yeah..." he said. Dammit. "Yes."

The troll—Sollux—gave him a pitying look. "I thought humans were supposed to have pretty advanced language skills." He tilted his head at Squarewave. "Or is he the human, and you're the pet?"

"All up in deep spaces," Squarewave answered, bobbing to an internal beat, "an' other tight places, givin' sexy aliens all kindsa O-faces."

"Squarewave, silent mode," Dirk hissed.

Squarewave crossed his arms and looked away. Even without lips, it was an impressive pout.

Sollux snorted. "That's pretty adorable. Does he do other tricks?"

Okay, now we were talkin'. Someone was interested in the _actual_ merchandise. "Squarewave is an independent AI. Not my most advanced—"

Squarewave vented hot air from behind his neck and stomped off to admire the woman-hedge.

Dirk cleared his throat. "Also kind of touchy. But he can carry on a conversation and do pretty complex tasks, from fetching and carrying to basic machine maintenance, operating tools, and all that good stuff. I've got bots tailored for other purposes, though, and I can make you a custom one if you're in the market. Whaddya need?"

He got all the way through his initial sales pitch before he remembered he was supposed to be taking it easy on Junior. Fuck. He watched Sollux, waiting for him to react like Dirk had insulted his mother... or his huge, white bug thing? That was what trolls had, wasn't it? It sucked not having the proper market research at his fingertips.

"I'd like to get a look inside," Sollux said. "Wanna swing by my workshop?"

How 'bout that? That exchange seemed contextually accurate. Dirk wasn't pinned to anything, and the guy was talking turkey. Nice one, Junior.

A metal body hit Dirk in the back of the thighs, a clamp latching onto his jacket. Squarewave pointed accusingly at the troll. "This shell ain't for crackin', and I got no nails for whackin'. Don't you step to the 'Wave, 'cause I'll bust you to the pave-ment!"

"That last rhyme was kinda lazy, li'l man," Dirk said, and got an ultima-pout in response.

Sollux had a nasal, breathy laugh. Weirdly cute. "I wasn't talking about your shell, I was talking about your head."

"There, see?" Dirk told the agitated bot. "He wants a look at your software. No one's gonna dismantle you. You're perfect just the way you are, even if your verse slips from time to time."

  


* * *

  
_Okay..._ Dirk thought, when he was perched on a workbench in a darkened studio with his pants flung across the room and Sollux's head between his legs. _Maybe Junior still needs some work... especially on slang._

But that forked tongue had a way of wrapping around his clit as it dragged over... It was textured, not quite like a cat's tongue, but raspier than human, and every lick was like fire along Dirk's nerves. Dirk buried his hands in Sollux's fluffy hair and rocked his hips toward that fanged maw. He winced as a tooth drew blood from his inner thigh, but it wasn't enough to discourage him—Sollux was way too good at this.

"Yeah, yeah, come on, fuck," Dirk groaned. His thumbs grazed Sollux's horns—the front set—and Sollux made a low, appreciative sound. "That good?" he asked. Sollux's lips wrapped around Dirk's clit and he made what felt like a concerted attempt to suck Dirk's soul straight through it, which Dirk took to be a yes. 

He rubbed into the orange bases of those horns. When his thumbs strayed lower, Sollux's hands left his thighs and clapped over Dirk's hands instead, pressing his thumbs in hard before returning to their original positions. The flesh there felt like his own temples, thick and fibrous. Dirk liked a fairly vicious temple massage when he had headaches, and Sollux seemed to feel similarly, so he pressed in harder and the fangy bastard started to purr around his clit.

"Holy fucking shit, you _do_ like that, huh? Well, massaging you is clearly the right way to go..."

Sollux was so enthusiastic, Dirk barely had the breath or the bandwidth to direct him. He didn't seem to need it. "Fuck me, I didn't think cis guys could eat pussy like this. You deserve a commendation—"

Sollux pulled back and swiped a golden tongue over his teeth. Dirk's hips jerked at the sight. "You're noisy," Sollux said.

Dirk laughed. "Yeah, I tend that way," he said. "I'll shut up if you don't like it. Whatever, just don't stop."

"It's cute," Sollux said. He dragged two fingers between Dirk's sodden folds, down, then up again, then traced the pads of his fingers around Dirk's entrance. "You get noisier with something inside you?"

"That's direct—" Dirk broke off in a gasp as Sollux shoved two long fingers inside him. "Holy shit, man. Romance a guy a little first."

"Thought that's what I was doing." Sollux began thrusting his fingers, Dirk's nethers supplying some truly obscene sound effects. It ached some—it'd _been_ a while—but luckily Dirk was kinda into that. He clenched around the invading fingers, eyes going dark as Sollux felt around inside him, figuring out very quickly where the pressure needed to be applied to make Dirk's back arch.

Dirk tugged at Sollux's horns. "C'mon, bite another chunk outta me while you do that."

"Nah," Sollux said. "Knees need a break."

They were floating several feet above the workbench before Dirk processed the flickering red and blue aura surrounding them both. Something that prickled more sharply than static electricity coated his skin, becoming denser and toothier around his wrists and ankles as his legs were pulled further apart and his hands were drawn over his head.

"Dear Xenophile Forum," Dirk drawled, "I never thought it'd happen to me..."

He should've been a bit more panicked—you know, the whole alien revealing sudden psychic powers, and using said powers for zero-grav bondage thing—only the alien in question had been doing a hell of a job eating him out, and the aggressive fingering had Dirk pretty horny for the sequel. 

Sollux's clothes flew off him, tugged and tossed by invisible hands, giving Dirk his first look at a naked Alternian. 

"Nice," he had to say. Sollux was on the lean side, but sleek in this cool, very alien way. Although the full package was pretty damn humanoid, Dirk had to guess there were certain bones missing, certain organs differently shaped to achieve the kind of streamlined shape he was seeing here. And—oh. "So that's why you knew what to do with your tongue."

Sollux snorted. "I think your grasp of anatomy is fucked."

Dirk huffed. Every time he thought Junior was getting the hang of this, the AI reminded him it was really not.

"I wasn't saying you... Ugh, lord knows what you heard. Forget it, just... Mm." Sollux hadn't taken his fingers out of him this whole time, and when he rose up higher, floating in between Dirk's thighs, Dirk wrapped his legs around him, pulling him closer. 

"Just don't stop."

Sollux grinned, fingers pressing into Dirk's upper wall as they sped up, no hint of gentleness in the environs. He stopped with his fingers mostly buried and felt around until he had the pads of his fingers square on Dirk's G-spot. His grin widened as Dirk squirmed, grinding on his fingers. Sollux clicked his tongue and those invisible hands got pricklier and multiplied, holding back Dirk's hips, his thighs, his ribcage, till all he could do was moan in frustration as Sollux's fingers circled, then drummed thoughtfully against that sensitive spot.

"Fuuuck, come _on!_ " Dirk groaned.

"You can fit more than just these, can't you?" Sollux scissored his fingers, teasing the muscles around Dirk's entrance, making them twitch.

"Was it not clear I was down for you to fuck me?" Dirk said. "Yeah, whatever you want, just _do_ it." That was probably a little hasty. Dirk hadn't been fisted in a while, if that's what Sollux had in mind... But he'd adapt.

"Good attitude," Sollux said. His fingers slid out, drawing a mournful sound from Dirk, and he reached down to part the lips of his—it was a nook, wasn't it? Dirk had dug that term up—his nook. Looked pretty much like Dirk's situation... until his clit stood up a little straighter, and a second one nosed its way out of the hood.

"Whoa, okay, nice—"

But Sollux wasn't done. The two little organs swelled and pushed out of the hood, revealing more and more length and girth until they were twisting around each other against Sollux's abdomen, well above where his navel should have been, dripping golden ichor. Their sides were patterned with curved ridges that made them look like articulated drills.

Dirk groaned like a starving man sitting down to a gourmet buffet. "Dude, if you're packing heat like that, you lead with it."

"I thought you were classier than to follow me if I whipped 'em out in the middle of the central grassorb."

"You were wrong. Lemme have it."

"Plan to." Sollux flicked his fingers and Dirk was pulled upright, wrists crossed high above his head. His ankles were hoisted into the air, legs splayed comically far apart.

"You're lucky I like assholes," Dirk said, stretching his neck for a kiss and getting a quick one for his pains.

"Just trying to get the optimal position," said Sollux. "Both at once?"

Dirk grimaced in consideration. "Those aren't _small_... Sounds like kind of a stretch, but..." But you didn't get the opportunity to be DPed by one alien every day, especially when you spent most of your time in transit from buttfuck nowhere to the skullfuck sticks. "Yeah, fuck it, lemme have 'em both."

Like he needed the extra leverage, Sollux's hands wrapped around Dirk's hips, the possessive grip warmer than the light show keeping him aloft. His bulges slithered between Dirk's thighs, spreading him with golden slick. Dirk's lids fluttered, eyes rolling up. Those ridges already felt good sliding between his folds and up against his clit.

One did seem to be going a little further south than necessary, though. "Hey—"

Before he could finish the thought, Sollux thrust his hips forward, hilting one thick, corkscrew bulge in each of Dirk's holes.

"Mother _fuck!_ " The shock snapped through him like high voltage, his body jolting in its psionic restraints. Dirk screwed his eyes shut, forehead slapping against Sollux's shoulder. "Shit, man, warn a guy before you shove it in his ass with no prep!"

"You said you were good with both." Sollux's thumbs stroked over his hips, his bulges wriggling inside Dirk. He could feel them bumping each other through the thin wall separating the two passages. He shuddered, fingers flexing helplessly.

"Thought you meant both in the front."

"That _would_ be kind of a stretch," Sollux said. Dirk groaned. Sollux said, "Want me to switch?"

"There is no switching once you are in my ass," Dirk said. He shuddered as those muscular tentacles rippled, feeling around inside him for nerves like they were figuring out how to pluck a guitar. He twitched as they found the chords.

"Want me to take it out?"

"Nnnnnngh..." Logically, he should say yes. But. But... "No. Just... bear it in mind in the future, huh?"

Electric tendrils spread over Dirk's cheeks and pulled his head back till Sollux could see him. "I don't wanna send you home all broken," he taunted. He rocked his hips gently and Dirk whimpered. "I'll stop if you don't like it."

"If you stop, I'll declare war on your whole empire."

"Oooh, scary." Sollux's fingers pressed a little deeper into Dirk's hips and he rocked his own again. Those ridges dragged along Dirk's inner walls, sensation rippling along his nerves. "Is your robot gonna rhyme us to death?"

"I've got one that mixes music, too. Absolutely vicious. Don't cross me."

"I'd better not."

Dirk's voice rose and fell in a combination of self-reproach and mounting pleasure. The bulge in his pussy? A+, no complaints. The other one hurt, but it was lubing its own way now that it was in there, and it _was_ rapidly distinguishing itself as a superior alternative to a human cock. Dick didn't have ridges like that, or the ability to expand to rub you just right at every possible angle. Or—Dirk squeaked—pinpoint accuracy at the tip.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there. Sollux, more, right fucking there, yes."

"Ask me nice," Sollux purred.

"I refuse."

Sollux laughed and thrust harder, hitting everything perfectly again so Dirk had to stifle a scream. "'S'cool. I'm having too much fun to stop, anyway. You're pretty cute when you scream. Do it some more."

Dirk held out for a little while, but there was literally nothing he could do to distract himself when he was strung up like sausages in an old-timey butcher's shop, and Sollux was a quick learner as to where all Dirk's frets and stops were. Not a full minute of mixed metaphors later, Dirk had abandoned all pretense and was rattling the workshop windows.

  


* * *

  
"Here," Sollux offered, when Dirk was sat on the workbench again, looking in dismay at the golden mess evacuating from every orifice. 

Dirk looked at the pail he was holding. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Empty into it," Sollux said. "That's why they call it 'barreling.'"

"They call what, what?" Dirk asked, tiredly compliant, and reached for the bucket. He looked at it blankly for a few seconds, then up at Sollux's expectant face. "You don't seriously think I'm gonna do this with an audience, do you?"

Sollux shrugged. "If you're gonna get coy now, I guess..." He pointed toward the back of the workshop. "There's an anointment square back there."

Dirk squinted. Damn it, Junior. Even Dirk could figure that out better from context. Maybe he shouldn't be bothering with the program at all. He slid gingerly off the workbench, ignoring the twinges running from the insides of his knees up to somewhere in the lumbar region.

Dirk made use of the facilities. They weren't too hard to figure out just by looking at, although he was cautious about the faucets in the luxuriously massive tub, and with good reason: they weren't color-coded, and hot defaulted to melt-your-bones-boiling. He managed to clean up with only minor scalding, and forced Junior to look at every bit of text in the room so he'd have something to chew on later.

He emerged butt-ass naked, since he'd left his clothes littered around Sollux's workshop. Sollux leered appreciatively before handing over the garments—smelling laundry-fresh, somehow. "Washed 'em for ya. So you don't _declare war_ on us." He waggled his eyebrows.

Dirk grabbed him by the collar and hauled him in for a kiss. He cut his lip on Sollux's teeth, but kissed him no less thoroughly for that. "You're a dick. You're lucky you're hot."

"It's not luck."

  


* * *

  
There were a few more pamphlets and guidebooks he'd managed to scavenge up around the station, so he went at their spines with a knife and set Junior up with a feed-scanner to read through them all before going to bed. In the morning, Junior claimed to have read it all and had updated several times, but Dirk decided to let him set this one out. He left the AI to chill on a computer not networked to Hal, and tuned him into a few public com channels the station was using. "Work on reading the room, okay, li'l man?"

This time, he picked Lil Seb to come with him. Seb was an eight-inch-tall metal bunny with shades to match his creator's, and a small katana he could whip out to make a big show of slicing cucumbers—or whatever you were into. He had a lot of cool functions, but he didn't talk, so he was less likely to get them in trouble than Dirk was. (To be fair, so was Squarewave, but Squarewave had seen a little too much yesterday and was hiding under his big robotic brother's cape, refusing to come out.) Dirk set out with the bunny on his shoulder, and as comprehensive a dictionary as he'd been able to assemble loaded into his shades.

He took himself to the Central Lawnring again and plunked down on the bench. Sollux actually had bought what Dirk considered to be the open source part of Squarewave's code, once they'd puzzled through a way to make the data readable on something Sollux owned. It wasn't a big-ticket sale, though. Nothing to offset this long a voyage. Goddammit, he was a good engineer who made cool robots. Who didn't love cool robots? Doofuses, that was who. If he could just stop getting fucked for five minutes and manage to pitch his lineup, he'd be golden.

And what was up with that, while he was at it? Dirk was a weirdo; that was well-established. He was a furry, for one thing—anything vaguely humanoid had the potential to be attractive to him as long as it was of age and consenting. Plus, there was his whole vintage hentai predilection which Alternian junk just so happened to play into. But what was _their_ excuse? How had he stumbled over the two weirdos who thought a small, squishy human was worth sticking a tentacle into? Then again, there couldn't be that many people on the station, and it _was_ pretty far out from their homeworld. The dating scene had to be kinda limited, especially for the gay aliens. _Were_ they gay aliens? Man, who knew.

Dirk found himself watching that one shop with the sexy owner again. Man, that guy was stacked. Like this magnificent hunk of sculpted marble. He was built to be out in the wild somewhere, tearing apart savage beasts with his bare hands, but it looked like he was tinkering in there. When he retreated to the back of the shop, there were flickers of light that looked a lot like someone using a blowtorch.

Dirk chewed his lower lip. He wanted to see that guy use a blowtorch. Brawn like that, and brains, too? Come on, now. And that long, black hair that just begged for fingers in it, yanking him back from his work for a kiss...

Dirk shook his head. You'd think he'd've had enough action in the past couple days not to get quite so distracted by a pretty boy with nice pecs.

Lil Seb leapt off Dirk's shoulder into his lap and spun around, pulling his katana from its scabbard on his back and brandishing it with a sharp trill of high-pitched beeps.

"What—" Dirk went stiff as a pair of large, very cold hands landed on his shoulders.

"Heyyyy, Chief," a voice purred.

Dirk wasn't armed—he didn't make a practice of boarding Non-Alliance stations with anything resembling a weapon (Seb's katana was pushing it), but his hand flexed with old instinct. The urge to launch himself off the bench and face his visitor rolled under his skin like a parasite getting ready to be birthed through his rib cage.

He forced a grin onto his face and didn't crane his neck. "Hey, pal," he said, only remembering then that he didn't have Junior loaded into his shades, so whoever this was had just addressed him in English. "Wanna come 'round an' let me get a look atcha? Not nice to be giving alien visitors heart attacks."

"Aw, sorry, Chief." The troll in question came around front of Dirk and cast him into a substantial shadow. Sollux had been large, and Karkat larger, but this guy was... out of proportion. He looked like a teen heartthrob out of some classic Earth movie (less the purple cast to his skin and the pearlescent ear fins), only at roughly 1.5x scale. Dirk found himself leaning back against the bench, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to make them work properly, because objects in shades clearly appeared closer than they actually were.

The heartthrob smiled at him (it went _cling!_ in Dirk's head), shoving his hands in his pockets to execute a perfectly affected disaffected slouch. It was fucking with Dirk's brain that he looked perfect, just... too large, too large. Was he nine foot tall? Christ.

"What brings you to our quadrant, sweet thing?" the guy asked. He had something at the corner of his wide smile... Was that a joint? It wasn't lit, whatever it was.

Dirk stared at him for another moment. Then, "Ohhh. You're working on a translator too, huh? I think your source material's a little outdated, but it's not bad. Any chance I could get a look at your files?"

The tall troll's brow wrinkled. "Is that a human come-on?" His leer returned. "My source files, like... My bulge, right? No, wait, slurry?" His voice shifted to a purr. "Yeah, baby, I'll show you whatever you want."

Dirk stared some more. He tilted his head to one side, then the other, trying to see where this troll might be hiding some kind of device that was translating for him. He didn't spot an earpiece, and there was nothing obstructing his eyes, so no HUD. Alternian tech was more advanced than Terran, so there was no ruling out something completely invisible, he supposed, or implanted in the back of his throat, but if it was still as experimental as it sounded, then you wouldn't have it surgically implanted, right?

"You're _not_ using a translation program, are you?" Dirk asked. He went still as the behemoth leaned down, planting one large hand on the back of the bench behind Dirk. 

"Nah, babe, this is all me. Pretty good, right?"

Maybe it was the fact that Karkat and Sollux had both caught him off-guard, or the quiet crying of his Icarus-5 bank account, but Dirk wasn't in the mood to humor the guy currently trying to out-alpha him, no matter how good-looking he was, or how much his size intrigued him.

Dirk put a hand on the troll's shoulder and sat forward, pushing. He was a little surprised how easily the guy leaned back, although only as far as Dirk pushed; dropping his own arm but letting Dirk's stay on his shoulder. Dirk squeezed a little. Nice muscle tone.

Dirk gave him a soft shove and the troll took a step back, straightening back up to shade him like a damn spruce. Dirk plucked Seb off his shoulder and held him up. Seb posed, then slashed his katana at the troll. "Robots," Dirk said. "Are you in the market for one? Machines? Gadgets? Automation of any kind?"

The troll pouted a little. "Nah, babe, I was just tryin' to be friendly. Cute little guy like you on his own... Alternians c'n be pretty rough, y'know? Thought you might want a little understandin' company."

Dirk's belly tightened, mouth hardening into a line. He plopped Seb back on his shoulder and folded his arms. "And you _get_ me, do you... What'd you say your name was?"

"It's Cronus," the troll said. "Cronus Ampora." He paused like some part of that was supposed to impress Dirk. Maybe Hal would've known, but even if he'd had Junior with him, Dirk doubted he would have had the right info to care. The purple fins drooped a little. "I mean... I've never met... Well, I haven't met _many_ humans, but like, I know we've got a lot in common. I think you should give me a chance." Cronus shifted, one hip jutting out to the side, chest puffing in what was either defensiveness or peacocking. To be fair, he had a nice set.

Dirk narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't like what I'm into. I'm real nasty."

Cronus smiled. "Yeah? Try me."

"No thanks. I'm a dom. Unless you're a sub, we're done here."

"Uh..."

"You know what that is, sweetheart?" Dirk drawled, leaning back and throwing his arms over the back of the bench.

"Um, I mean, I've heard... It's, uh..."

"It's a nice, well-behaved boy who lets me tie him up, slap him around, and make him cry while I fuck him however the hell I please, in whatever hole I'm interested in. Is that what you like?"

Cronus's eyes widened, and a warm, smug curl of satisfaction settled in Dirk's belly. That oughta get rid of this guy.

"Try anything once... I guess..."

Or not.

"When I say 'well-behaved,' I mean, 'follows my every order to the letter, doesn't talk back, and knows to address me as Sir, not fucking _babe,_ " Dirk growled.

There was another flicker of surprise and apprehension across Cronus's face, which seemed almost ludicrous. The guy could have folded Dirk in quarters; what'd he have to be afraid of?

Cronus chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, eyes narrowing as he stared off toward the ceiling currently obscured in the glow of the two artificial moons. Dirk was beginning to think he was being given the cold shoulder when Cronus looked back at him. "Yeah, okay. Uh. Sir."

What in fuck's name was going on on this station? Dirk looked at the troll until he fidgeted—honestly fidgeted—and then said, "Okay." He held out his hand. "Give me your arm."

Cronus blinked, then complied, and Dirk yanked it close. He pulled a pen out of his breast pocket, clicked it open, and wrote a string of numbers on Cronus's forearm. "That's my docking bay. Can't miss me: it's the only non-Alternian ship." His thumb swiped across the troll's palm, belatedly registering just how much cooler than Karkat or Sollux this guy was. He'd heard about that, but it was strange to actually feel it. He gave Cronus his arm back. "Seb, time check?"

Lil Seb looked up at him with station time displayed in his red shades.

"Ten hours from now," he said to Cronus. "Make yourself pretty and come see me, _if_ ," he clicked his pen shut and slipped it back in his pocket, "you're feeling completely, and unquestioningly, obedient, respectful, and haven't been hit enough this week."

Cronus swallowed. There was no way he was going to show up.

Dirk jerked his chin at him. "Now get lost, sweet thing. Daddy's got business to conduct."

Dirk watched him leave, still a little troubled by his brain's attempts to fix perspective with the shrubs and buildings Cronus passed as he receded. He had a nice ass, though, proportionally. Nice overall. Just something about his approach really pinged Dirk in a way neither Sollux nor Karkat—aggressive as he was—had.

Lil Seb hopped a couple times on his lap to get his attention.

"Yeah, good point," Dirk said. "C'mon. Hup." He patted his shoulder and the bunny somersaulted onto it, using Dirk's revolutionary weight and velocity sensors to maintain equilibrium like a tightrope walker even as Dirk rocked forward and heaved himself upright with no concession to the bot's presence. This was the kind of ingenious tech trolls were ignoring just for some strange. Was the station so small that everyone had already fucked? Was that it?

Dirk crossed the lawnring to the stairs that led into the circular tiers of shops and climbed to the second level. He hesitated before stepping onto the walkway. It was wide and tall enough for two people bigger than Cronus to walk abreast comfortably, presumably because he wasn't the only one that size, although he was the first Dirk had spotted. Dirk huffed at his own hesitance and walked along the row of shops. 

He peered into a variety of establishments. There were shelves of things that looked like they ought to be food until they moved. Clothes a lot more colorful and elaborate than any he'd seen the trolls here wearing. Weapons pretty varied for a spacefaring people, when all humans ever carried offworld were projectile weapons and utility knives (Dirk had katanas on his ship, but again—weirdo).

Dirk stood up straighter as he found the shop he'd spied from the Central Lawnring.

"Damn," he muttered. It was like his idealized version of his own workshop. He always pictured it like this: the workbench neatly divided with materials and tools organized within easy reach. Well-labeled storage (he couldn't read those labels, but they were well-centered, neatly-printed, eminently legible if you only knew the language. The only resemblance to Dirk's actual workshop was the sparkling clean floor and surfaces—Dirk did keep things clean (he had help from his bots, but that's why he had built them)—but tidy never quite seemed to happen. Everything was so well put-away, he couldn't even tell for sure what this shop was offering. The machinery was there for a lot of the same things Dirk liked to build, but there wasn't a project on the bench at present. The cute engineer was nowhere to be seen, either. Dirk leaned from side to side, trying to see through the door near the back of the front room into whatever private workspace lay beyond. 

**"Good evening."**

Dirk remained entirely still as his heart tried to leap out his throat. Sneaking up on him wasn't supposed to be easy; how off his game was he lately?

He turned to see whose comically large shadow he was standing in this time.

It was the cutie's.

A very large cutie, although not quite the Scots pine he'd snarled at earlier.

"Okay, wait, I got this," he said. What the guy had said was off the list of greetings Dirk had learned, and he didn't sound aggressive. **"Hi,"** Dirk said.

The troll closed his eyes and gave him a shallow nod, the long, thick hair hanging past his shoulders shifting like water with the slight movement. The corner of Dirk's mouth twitched.

 **"I'm Dirk,"** he said.

The cutie gave him another slow nod. **"Equius."**

"Equius," Dirk repeated. "I like that. Uh..." He scrolled through the list inside his glasses. "Uh. **Good... name.** "

Hey, was that the ghost of a smile on the big guy's face? That wasn't so hard. Maybe phrasebook had been the way to go in the first place.

Equius spoke again and Dirk's brow wrinkled. Or not. A phrasebook wasn't going to help if he couldn't catch what the other person said. But then the troll opened the door to his shop and inclined his head, a little deeper this time, arching his fine brows at Dirk.

Dirk's temperature rose a little. **"Thanks."**

He stepped inside. The door closed and the shop lit up, much brighter than the mood-lighting the station common spaces favored.

Equius stepped around him and gestured to his workbench, then several of the machines arrayed along the walls in turn, saying a few words about each.

"Man, I wish I knew what you were saying," Dirk sighed. "This is exactly the shit I'm into." He scrolled frantically through the lists in his lenses. **"Tomorrow, I bring interpreter,"** he said, not even attempting conjugation because there was no way it'd go well.

Equius nodded and beckoned him with a sedate curl of one hand, leading the way into the back room.

"Ooh," Dirk said, when the lights came on. There were bots _everywhere._ They were all humanoid—or trolloid—and they were lined up elbow to elbow, ringing the walls, on three shelves that circled the whole room. The bottom shelf was about two feet taller than Equius himself, and housed bots his height and taller, in shades of buffness from skinny to anti-aircraft tank. The next shelf up was shorter, and the one closest to the ceiling was full of robots around Dirk's height, with, again, a full spectrum of builds. They were mostly shining chrome, or some similar material, but some looked more adapted to camo in different environments—there were all-black and all-white, as well as what looked like high fashion camo given the colors, although judging from the lawnring outside, was maybe just _camo._

Dirk turned to his host, eyes alight behind his glasses. **"What kind?"**

 **"Fighting,"** said Equius.

Dirk caught his breath. "Demo... how do I say demo?"

 **"Watch?"** Equius asked. He tilted his head to the side. **"Try?"**

"Yes, yes, **yes,** let me try your cool alien robot," Dirk said. He pointed at the top shelf. **"Small. Please."** He pointed at himself. **"Not troll strong, okay?"**

Equius cracked an actual smile this time, full of large teeth, some of which looked like they'd been cracked trying to gnaw on metal. Dirk wondered if he had a habit of holding tools in his teeth, or whether that was the result of being his own beta tester.

There was what looked like an old-school library ladder on a rail in front of the shelves. Equius pulled it along (it was almost silent—the guy kept his machines well-oiled, even the basic ones) until he spotted the bot he wanted and shimmied up the ladder like a very broad acrobat. Then the guy tossed it over his shoulder like a fireman and dropped down like a cat.

"Okay, now you're showing off," Dirk said. Equius gave him an innocent look, and Dirk couldn't tell if he'd understood his tone or not.

The troll set the robot on its feet. It was Dirk's height, and roughly his build. This one was pure white except for the eyes, which looked like LCD screens—other than that, its face was smooth, giving it a vaguely insectoid appearance. Horns rose from above where its temples would be and curved backward, just above the surface of the skull, the length of the top of its head.

Equius lifted its arm and gestured to Dirk to take it. Dirk hesitated, making sure by look and gesture that he was allowed to touch it, but it seemed so.

"Whoa... It's so light!"

Equius nodded. He grinned and Dirk felt a little flutter that had nothing to do with robotics. **"Try?"** Equius asked again.

Dirk looked at him, exaggerating the skepticism on his face. He pointed at Equius. **"Big."** Then himself. **"Small."** Yes, he was a genius talking like Tarzan, but not being squashed like a roach was a higher priority than sounding smart. **"Easy,"** he said again. **"Simple. Baby."**

Equius visibly straightened up, his eyebrows rising. He probably didn't expect a guy to be that frank about his physical limitations, but realism was a key component in not being roadkill.

 **"Okay?"** Dirk asked, flashing him the large eyes over his sunglasses.

 **"O... kay,"** Equius echoed. He murmured instructions, and the bot powered on with a soft hum, its eyes lighting up blue. Then, as it beeped to acknowledge an instruction, its eyes phased teal, green, gold, and finally red. **"...Baby,"** Equius said, with a lot more hesitation. Maybe he didn't want to insult Dirk, unlike a certain security chief Dirk could name.

"All right..." Dirk said. He lifted Seb off his shoulder and held him out to Equius. "You can play with mine while I play with yours. Don't let him get squished, **okay?** "

Equius frowned until the last word, but he seemed to glean Dirk's meaning. He held out his hand and Seb cartwheeled onto it. He posed with his katana drawn, holding it over his head, then slashed it to the side, flicking imaginary blood from the blade before resheathing it. Then he cartwheeled up Equius's arm to perch on his shoulder.

Equius's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. Dirk smiled to himself. Didn't want talented cuties thinking Dirk was a slouch. He knew which was the business end of a screwdriver.

Dirk backed up a few paces and assumed a fighting stance. " **Okay,** big boy, lemme have it."

The bot made a very soft whirring sound, then launched itself at Dirk. Dirk narrowly threw himself out of its path and spun around to grab for it, but his fingers only grazed its sleek back as it sailed past. Dirk got his guard up in time to avoid a chrome fist to the mouth, and his knee up to avoid the one headed for his stomach, then shoved himself backward and shuffled a few more paces, eyes wary, putting distance between them.

Dirk was quick, but fighting on the defensive, only just able to keep up with blocking the robot's attacks. And this was "baby" mode. Dang. Sawtooth gave him a pretty good workout, but he was a significantly earlier build than Seb, and his size made it harder to achieve the same agility. If Seb were built at this scale, he'd be able to defeat this robot, at least on this setting, but Dirk didn't know how to make his balancing tech work at that level at this size. Not yet, at least. Equius was good.

Dirk took a few blows—one deliberately, two not. It was pretty well-matched to his strength right now; it felt like getting hit by somebody in Dirk's weight class.

Dirk weaved a little, watched the bot follow, watched it seem to analyze his footwork to decide whether he was feinting or not. Within a few moves, it seemed to cotton on to the patterns he was displaying. It wasn't just agile, it was clever.

Dirk let it get in close, then ducked under its punch, girded himself, and tried to throw the bot over his back. The arm spooled out three feet, sending Dirk stumbling back. Then the hand latched onto Dirk's arm and yanked him in Scorpion-style so the bot could clock him in the jaw. Dirk went down. The bot pounced before Dirk could right himself, pinning Dirk's shoulders to the ground, and Dirk hissed, raising his forearms to guard his face as the bot pulled back its fist.

**"End program."**

The bot relaxed and slid fluidly off Dirk, rising to its feet. It offered him a hand up, which Dirk took.

Dirk rubbed his jaw, admiring the bot, which stood at neutral once more. "Damn, Equius. I wanna tell you how impressed I am without sounding like a caveman, but..."

Equius came over and held out Seb, who took a flying leap off Equius's palm onto Dirk's head and pirouetted for his audience.

**"Dirk, you did not fight."**

Equius had to repeat it for Dirk to look up the words.

"Oh," Dirk said. **"Good robot,"** he explained. **"Not hit."**

Was he imagining it, or did Equius's cheeks look a little bluer? He frowned at Dirk. **"Hitting robot."**

"I know, I know, just... it's a really **good robot,** and I barely know you, so..."

Equius gave him a long look, his brow furrowing, then shook his head. He pointed at Seb. **"Good."**

Dirk shook his head. "Ugh, I really wanna impress you with my sparkling wit right now, and instead we're having this monosyllabic conversation. Why—" Dirk puffed out his cheeks. No, he knew why. **"Tomorrow. Talk... again. Okay?"**

Equius nodded, then beckoned Dirk through another door. This room was smaller, and housed something that looked like a large, neon-colored hive, a tall pile of cushions, and a desk and chair. What at a glance looked like a computer tower sat on the desk, which was perfectly clean otherwise, but for a monitor, a pen-holder, and a notebook sitting dead center in front of the keyboard, perfectly perpendicular to the edge of the desk. Damn, Dirk bet the circuit boards inside those robots were immaculate. 

"I wonder if your code's as neat as your workspace," he murmured.

Equius glanced at him over his shoulder and Dirk blushed and shook his head. "Nothing," he said, waving his hands in front of his face.

The troll seated himself at his desk and ran his finger over the circular computer tower. It chirred and unrolled like a huge, shining pillbug. Dirk's eyes widened. Equius stroked the bug's back until the monitor lit up, then moved his hands to the keyboard. A smaller bug rolled out from beneath the monitor and fetched up against Equius's knuckles, where it unrolled. Equius slid his hand over it, tapping what appeared to be its butt with his index and middle fingers, bringing things up onscreen.

None of it was comprehensible to Dirk in the slightest. He tried to get some idea of how his operating system worked or see if he could glean something about Alternian file management, but soon enough Equius was asking for his input. There were a series of images arrayed across the screen. He looked expectantly at Dirk.

Dirk scrutinized the images. A couple looked like some kind of organic tissue. Some looked more like circuitry...

"Oh!" Dirk said. "That..." he pointed. "That looks like something we have."

Equius poked the little bug some more and similar circuits popped up. Memory. They looked like external memory. Some a little older than current Earth tech, some unfamiliar, but in the right family. **"Earth type?"** Dirk asked. Equius nodded. Dirk stared harder at the examples. "Mmm... **That,** " he said. "That's the closest to something I have."

Equius pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. He turned and gestured at the cushions behind him, but Dirk didn't trust himself to sit on that pile without falling straight down it and sacrificing his dignity—if sitting was even what it was for. He just drifted toward it and stood, waiting.

Equius finished what he was doing with the computer and turned expectantly to the larger pillbug. It began to chitter, and the noise got louder, its legs tapping on the desk in a ripple, like they were doing the wave. Equius grimaced and lifted the bug's midsection, then petted it behind its head. The bug made a low, almost growling sound, choked, and then vomited a glob of spit and mucus about the size of a ping-pong ball.

Equius set the bug flat again, gave its back another stroke. It chittered and closed its eyes.

Equius pulled a towel from his desk drawer and began wiping away the slime clinging to what turned out to be a small flash drive. He held it out to Dirk.

"Oh. My God. How can you show me shit like that when I can't talk to you? I need to know everything about that little guy!" Dirk took the drive. He held it up, examining the port. "Yeah... I've definitely got a port that'll fit this. May blow up my computer, but that's what I have spares for. So, uh... **What is this?** "

 **"Dictionary. Words,"** Equius said.

"Ohhh. Thank you! Uh. **Thank you.** Shit, thank fucking god." Dirk scrolled through his glasses looking for something a little stronger. **"You're the best,"** he said, and Equius started. Fuck. Dirk's dictionary really blew. **"Sorry. Good. You."** Dirk sighed. He hated being just another pretty face. Language barriers were the pits.

Seb waved his sword at the drive.

"You can't read this, can you, bud?" Dirk asked, holding up the drive. Seb leaned in curiously.

 **"No,"** Equius said. He waved his hand emphatically. **"Large data."**

"Oh. **Okay,** gotcha." Lil Seb had more capacity than he might look like, but Dirk decided to take Equius's word on that. He tucked the memory stick in his pocket. "Junior's gonna hafta snack on this when we get back." He grinned at Equius. " **Thanks** again, man. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to ask you a coherent question."

Equius saw him out, and Dirk found himself lingering at the doorway, searching for something to say. His limited phrasebook made it easier to avoid the long goodbye, though. He did his best to sign off without insulting the guy's egg, or whatever, and headed back to the docking bay.

Where there was a massive troll—who had changed clothes since the morning—evening—leaning against his ship.

"Hey, Chief," Cronus purred.

"Are you serious," Dirk said. "I thought I scared you off."

"Takes more'n a little pillow talk to scare me off, babe."

"Yeah, you _really_ didn't understand what I said to you, did you?"

"Oh, uh... I'm supposed to call you Sir, right?"

"You're supposed to call me Sir, right, _what?_ "

Cronus's face scrunched in confusion. Dirk let him swing. "Sir, right... Sir?"

"Marginally better, but slow." Dirk passed him and put his palm on the reader to enter the ship. The pad went red and flashed twice. "No, it's fine," Dirk sighed. It was sort of good to know that Hal was still looking out for him being coerced by huge aliens, even if they weren't speaking to each other.

The door hissed open.

Dirk shrugged and stepped through. "Come on in, if you're coming. Gonna need a lotta rope for you."

The hatch closed, and Dirk heard a second set of footsteps behind him.

"Rope?" Cronus echoed. Dirk growled and Cronus amended, "Rope... Sir?" He wasn't saying it right, but Dirk allowed it.

"If you think I trust you to stay still when you're told, you're crazy. Maybe chain is more what I need, though. How strong are you?"

"Why don't you try me, babe?"

Dirk whipped around on his heel and braced his entire body to take the brunt of Cronus walking into him. He pushed the guy back. "No," he said. "See, that's not how you talk to me. You wanna get fucked, I'll fuck you, but you learn how to ask for it. Am I getting through to you at all?"

"Uh..."

"Not 'uh,'" Dirk growled. "Get on your knees."

Cronus stared at him for a second, and then he did. Asshole was still Dirk's height that way.

"Not low enough. Get on all fours. _Now,_ pretty boy."

They were standing in the corridor still, but it wasn't like there were a wealth of witnesses around. Hal would probably warn Squarewave away so he didn't get his virgin circuits in more of a tizzy. "Seb, give us a little privacy, wouldja?"

Lil Seb chirped. He shimmied down the back of Dirk's shirt and sprang from his back pocket to the ground, then scampered off down the hall, metal feet clanking against the floor. 

When Dirk heard him safely on the other side of a door, he turned his attention back to the troll—who had, to his credit, obeyed. Dirk allowed himself a small smile. "How 'bout that. You _are_ cuter from this angle."

"Yeah?" Cronus grinned. At Dirk's exasperated sigh, he corrected, "Ya... Y'think so, Sir?"

"Mmm..." Dirk strolled closer. He was aware that, on all fours or not, this troll could probably tackle him and break him in two in the process. But Dirk had always been a pretty good judge of his personal danger in situations like these. He figured he was fine. Plus, this was his ship, ninety percent automated by Hal, and while his robots weren't quite as combat-geared as Equius's, their offensive capabilities were nontrivial. If he died, he wouldn't die unavenged.

He grabbed Cronus by the chin. "I do think so. You're a very pretty boy. But your manners are shit. And I won't fuck you unless you can mind them."

"I can! I can, Sir, I promise. Really. Gimme a chance, Ch—Sir. Please? Sir?"

"I like begging," Dirk said. He stroked Cronus's hair back from his forehead, then brushed his thumb over his lips. "Got some pretty sharp teeth there, boy. You know how to keep 'em sheathed when you give head?"

"What? Sir?"

"Are you gonna bite my damn dick off when I fuck your mouth," Dirk deadpanned.

"Oh. Your dick is your bulge, right? Right, Sir?"

"Mm-hm."

"Naw, check it out, Sir." Cronus opened an impressively fanged maw, even given Dirk's encounter with Sollux yesterday. There was an electronic burble from the walls which Dirk had to assume translated to, _You aren't_ actually _going to put your dick in that trash compactor, are you?_ But yeah, he totally was. Even before Cronus demonstrated that he knew how to curve his lips over his teeth to avoid lacerating whatever was shoved between them.

Because he seemed to be so damn popular on the station, Dirk had left the ship packing that evening. And his packer was something he was pretty damn proud of. His own invention, it stowed away in the front pocket of a pair of reinforced briefs, giving him a respectable flaccid bulge in his pants for anyone who was looking.

The exterior was dual-density silicone, with a proprietary polymer coating that made it resistant to tooth damage—although it was designed with human teeth in mind—and it was textured like skin, with realistic irregularities, a visible vein, and a nice, flared head. All good craftsmanship, yes, but that wasn't the beauty part.

Underneath the silicone, Dirk's dong had an articulated robotic skeleton which took wireless commands from his shades. Dirk flicked his eyes across his glasses to open the menu, and his cock stirred against his thigh, thickening and lengthening.

Dirk grabbed the back of Cronus's head and pulled his cheek against the growing bulge along his inseam. "All right, then. Get affectionate, kitty. Keep those paws on the ground. I'm just interested in your face right now."

"I mean, it _is_ a pretty handsome mu—"

Dirk clapped his hand over Cronus's mouth and squeezed firmly. "Unh-uh," he said. "Talking isn't your strong suit, Cronus. I just wanna look at your pretty face while you use your mouth for something worthwhile."

Cronus blinked, then his lids lowered, and as Dirk pulled his hand away, Cronus pressed his open mouth to the shadow of Dirk's cock. Dirk raked his fingers through Cronus's hair as the troll licked across the cotton, then sucked at the silhouette of Dirk's head.

Dirk turned his dick up to full extension and watched Cronus notice, press his face harder into Dirk's crotch. "Mmhmm," Dirk hummed. His thumb stroked along the upper tine of Cronus's ear, and the troll's frilled gills flared. "Like that?" Dirk murmured, and Cronus answered with a groan, dragging his tongue back up to the base. He rubbed his cheek against Dirk's dick and Dirk made it throb for him.

"C'n I have it?" Cronus asked. "In my mouth... Sir?"

"Hmm..."

"Please, Sir?"

"You're gonna watch those teeth."

"Yes, Sir."

Dirk contemplated a moment longer, preening under that eager violet gaze. 

He ran a thumb over Cronus's bottom lip, tugging it down. "Show me a welcoming mouth. Mm-hm, there it is," he said, as the troll opened wide, purple tongue over his lower teeth, upper lip shielding the top row of fangs.

Dirk unzipped and pulled his cock out. It matched his skin tone, and he had the easy-wear harness well-adjusted so it rose out of his pants at the perfect angle. He didn't bother with balls, for himself, because he found them uncomfortable to pack, though he had added them to models made for other people. Some human partners had gotten wistful over the omission, but Cronus didn't seem troubled.

"Nice."

Dirk snorted. "How about some tangible appreciation?" Cronus opened his mouth again, like a good boy in the dentist's chair, and Dirk guided his cock into his mouth. "Uh-huh, easy now... it's not a bulge, so don't make any assumptions about what I like."

"Mm-hmm," Cronus agreed, wrapping his lips around it. The heating circuits inside had it warmed to match Dirk's temperature, but for all he knew, Cronus might not have noticed if he hadn't activated them; his cheek was markedly cool against Dirk's palm.

"Keep watching those teeth," Dirk murmured. His fingers raked Cronus's hair back on both sides, then wrapped around his head, thumbs braced against the bases of his horns. The troll gave a pleased shudder at that, and Dirk stroked the grain of that deep orange keratin as he rocked his hips slowly forward, stretching Cronus's lips around his girth.

Dirk smiled. "Look good like that, sweetheart. You like bein' on the ground with a thick cock in your mouth?"

Cronus made an enthusiastic-sounding moan and pushed forward, his tongue grazing along the underside of Dirk's cock until his nose was pressed against Dirk's belly. Dirk's clit throbbed appreciatively. His fingers curled at the back of Cronus's head, and he ground his hips once, thumbs sliding along his horns. "Good," Dirk purred. "Good. You need my help, or can you do it on your own?"

Cronus made a muffled noise that sounded enough like "Yes, Sir" for Dirk's satisfaction, and pulled back, lips and tongue dragging over the wet skin. Cronus began to bob, taking it to the hilt like a champ every time. He had a size advantage, true, but Dirk had worn his size queen model today, since the trolls he'd fucked so far were each packing about eight miles of tentacle. Dirk was liberal with his praise as Cronus went to work, his gills flaring when he swallowed Dirk into his throat, the pressure delicious against Dirk's clit.

"I like that, sweetheart," Dirk purred. "See how much better it is when you use your mouth the right way?"

Cronus didn't seem to struggle at all with Dirk's size, and only pushed forward harder when Dirk began actively thrusting. Dirk laughed, a little breathless as he realized he might actually get an orgasm out of this. He'd mostly expected to enjoy the view and take Cronus down a peg, but...

"Fuck, yeah, good boy," Dirk groaned. His grip on Cronus's scalp tightened, his thumbs digging into his hornbeds. He pulled Cronus against him, squishing that sharp little nose against his belly, and ground into his throat. Cronus's moans vibrated the base of Dirk's dick, adding just a hair more stimulation. "No, paws down," Dirk barked as he saw one large hand rising toward his ass. Cronus's palm slapped to the floor. Dirk swatted Cronus's cheek. "Don't get creative. All I want's that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick, you hear me?"

Cronus groaned in answer and bobbed faster. Dirk's hips sped until he was on the precipice. He latched on, wrapping his arms around Cronus's head and riding his face. "Don't you move, don't you fucking move, pretty boy. Just let me fuck up at that nice, tight throat—"

Dirk broke off with a sharp grunt, hips stuttering against Cronus's mouth, dick buried in his throat. It was one of those not-a-sure-things, making him grip tighter and grind harder, and just when he began to worry about Cronus's oxygen supply, the pocket of tension behind his clit burst.

Dirk groaned and leaned back, dick sliding out of Cronus's mouth, fingers releasing his death grip on the guy's head. Cronus looked up at him with lips swollen and glistening, his face flushed violet and pupils blown. Dirk got another little throb between his legs.

"Chief—"

"No..."

" _Sir._ Did you... did I do it right?"

"Uh-huh," Dirk chuckled. "Not bad for your first human blow job. Solid B."

"What's that mean?"

"'Bout eighty-three to eighty-five percent."

"What?" Cronus sat back on his heels, bringing him up to chest-height with Dirk, a sour expression on his face.

Dirk made his dick soft and tucked it away. "High marks for deep-throating and enthusiasm, but you lost points for fucking up how you address me, multiple times. It wasn't the best orgasm someone's given me this week, but decent." Dirk raised his eyebrows, his own expression cooling. "You're losing more points for that look on your face right now."

Cronus scowled. "Not _my_ fault if you don't know how to have a good time," he said. "Maybe if you weren't trying to run things, you could relax and properly appreciate just what you're getting here. You're not—"

Dirk closed the gap between them and yanked Cronus's head back by his hair. " _No._ You are _real_ slow on the uptake with this, but get this through your head: You. Do not. Talk to me that way." He punctuated his words with a tug on Cronus's hair.

"Hey, _you're_ the one who—Ow!"

"I don't know who you think you're supposed to be," Dirk said, "but I have a tough time imagining this kind of attitude gets you a lotta friends, Cronus. You're cute, but you ain't _that_ cute."

Dirk shook his head. "I was gonna take you back to my bedroom, strip you down, get you all trussed up in about a half-mile of silk rope, then really take my time figuring out how to make you scream. I was gonna fuck you till you saw whatever god you pray to, Cronus, but you blew it."

The aggression went out of the troll's expression, replaced with that same bad-boy heartthrob leer. "Aw, c'mon, Chief, I didn't mean it. We can still have a good morning."

"No. That shit doesn't work on me, Cronus." Dirk released him and took a stride back. "Don't let the door hit your ass on your way out."

Cronus's eyes narrowed as he unfolded from his knees, towering over Dirk. "Listen," he began.

Three doors in the corridor hissed open. Lil Sebastien cartwheeled out of the first, followed by Squarewave, then Sawtooth, the seven-foot droid who had most recently been serving as Dirk's sparring partner and had three katanas strapped to his back.

"Hey, I'm goin'," Cronus said, genial good-ol'-boy once more. "No need to call in the troops."

Dirk just looked at him until Cronus clicked his tongue, turned around, and headed back down the hall. The hatch opened in front of him, and did manage to hit him on the way out, although it was the heel of his shoe it caught. Dirk heard him yelp as it came off and he tripped down the ramp, before cussing a blue streak as he worked to yank the shoe back out of the door.

Dirk turned to look at his retinue. "What? You guys didn't think I had it? Have a little faith in your captain, huh?"

Sawtooth, despite an almost complete lack of facial motility, managed to look the least amused. "Jeez, stop," Dirk said, "I hate that..."

When the posse dispersed, the speakers overhead came on. 

"Hey," Hal said. "You good?"

Dirk rolled his eyes, but couldn't help a smile. "Yeah. Thanks for checking in."

"Sure."

"I'm still not talking to you."

Hal sighed in disgust. "You're such a dick."

  


* * *

  
Junior got a huge meal to work on through the night. Or the day, actually, since Dirk had shifted them onto station time. Dirk checked in on him several times before going to bed, but he was still munching away on the massive hunk of data from Equius's flash drive.

When Dirk woke up, Junior said he was eighty percent through it, so Dirk sparred with Sawtooth, then performed a quick upgrade on his grip strength to improve his sword-fighting. After a shower, Junior was still only at ninety-five percent.

"Aaagh!" Dirk slumped over his desk with his hands over his head. "Eat fasteeerrr..."

"Why so thirsty, blond and dirty?"

Dirk rolled his face to the side to look at Squarewave, who was softly bouncing in place, like he wanted to rap battle. "Why so judgemental, when I _built_ you?"

"Not trying to guilt you,  
Just wanna understand  
What's fixin' to wilt you,  
and forcin' your hand."

Dirk laughed and stretched his arms across the desk. "I just want something I can go thank the cute guy for. Is that so wrong?"

"Mr. Electrifyin',  
the one who sent you flyin'?"

"I sense some disapproval there, shortstuff."

Squarewave didn't have a huge amount of facial motility, either, but there was something very accusatory in that stare.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't send you outside soon enough, but sometimes adults have to play with other adults, okay? Anyway, no, not him. The guy with the long hair who we saw in his workshop that day."

"Yeah, I see why you're hype,  
That beefcake is your type."

"And he's smart, and he likes to tinker. I wanna go talk robots with him, but I can't do it without a working vocabulary, or he'll think I'm stupid and gross."

"Why—"

"Okay, just stupid."

"Why don't you make up with Hal?  
He'd translate for a pal."

Dirk thunked his forehead back onto the desk. "No. Non-negotiable. I can do it myself, only Junior is such a slooooow eater."

"Hey, don't be mean,  
Bro's like zero-teen."

"I know, I know. I'm not mad at him. I'm just thirsty."

"If three didn't quench it,  
you think four'll drench it?"

"Seriously, I _made_ you. How dare you?"

The ancient computer Junior was currently chilling in gave a musical trill that gave Dirk middle school flashbacks.

Data one hundred percent assimilated.

"Yes!" Dirk pulled off his glasses. "Come to my shades, my beamish boy!" He plugged them in, and the progress bar began anew from zero percent, obnoxious cursor animation and all. Dirk slumped back over the desk.

  


* * *

  
It was afternoon when the new and improved Junior had settled into Dirk's shades—aftermidnight, really. It was hard to acclimate to the light in the station common areas, which started out dimmest at the beginning of their day—night—and brightened as they started to wind down. It was brightest when the whole station was asleep except for security, although still not quite the lumens you'd see being pumped in a human space station. The same didn't go for inside structures; each troll seemed to have their own indoor light preferences. Equius and Sollux's workshops were the most brightly illuminated spaces Dirk had seen, although even they didn't use the kind of surgical lighting Dirk liked to build under. He had to assume they had night vision like cats. 

"Good boy," Dirk said as he donned his shades. "So proud of you, li'l man. You digest all that data?"

Junior pulled up several messages and menus, offering Dirk customization settings based on politeness and intimacy level, and blood color.

"Oh, you clever boy," Dirk purred. "I'm sorry I was impatient. What've you got for me here...?"

He knew who he wanted to visit to test this out, so... Equius seemed pretty cordial. Dirk set the politeness level to high. Intimacy level? Let's not be aspirational... meeedium? And blood color? Uh... fuck. 

"Junior, what the fuck am I supposed to do with blood color? My blood is red. That's not even on here."

Junior made no response for a moment. Then the cursor climbed the menu and stopped on Blue, which was third from the top. It flashed there.

"Blue, huh? He was wearing a blue symbol on his shirt, so I guess that's him. But, uh... Fuck, I don't know what kinda sociopolitical bullshit I'm putting my foot in here—" 

"Hal—" Squarewave started.

"Nope," Dirk said. "We're still not talking."

Squarewave sighed and bopped his way out of the room.

"All right, Junior. You're the one who just ate a seven-course meal of Alternian linguistics. You say blue, we're blue today." The cursor stopped flashing and confirmed, and the menus disappeared. "Okay, let's roll! I wanna see what you've got."

Karkat was on duty outside the docking bay when Dirk emerged, Lil Sebastian on his shoulder. "So, Cronus, huh?" Karkat said.

"Not twice," Dirk answered, turning toward the Central Lawnring.

"At least you learn."

"Is it me?" Dirk muttered to his cohort. "Or do I attract assholes?"

A confirmation dialog appeared in Dirk's left lens.

"I didn't actually want an answer, Junior."

The dialog disappeared, but not before Dirk saw the selection.

  


* * *

  
Dirk paused on the walkway outside Equius's shop, scoping the area to make sure the engineer didn't get the drop on him this time. It looked like the coast was clear, though. He took a second to get his breathing straight. Not trying to look so desperate that a rap bot with zero interest in romance could call him out on it. All he wanted was to talk robotics with someone who could dig it, and not sound like a complete dipshit. There was a lot of brainpower on his ship, but he was its primogenitor, and sometimes a guy wanted to shoot the shit with someone whose daddy he wasn't.

Equius was at his workbench when Dirk peeked inside, his long hair pulled loosely back in a ponytail, broad back curved in a not-entirely-healthy posture as he went at some wiring with pincers that looked comically delicate in his large hand. Dirk sighed softly. So freaking cute.

He knocked lightly and Equius looked up. He beckoned Dirk inside.

"Hey, hi," Dirk said as he pushed the door open. "Thank you so much for the data. My interpretation program's using it now, but this is the first test run, so... if I say anything crazy to you, blame it on my programming, okay?"

Equius nodded thoughtfully, pushing his seat back along the workbench. He indicated one to Dirk. "Would you like to have a seat?"

Dirk grinned. They were past monosyllabic communication, thank _fuck._ "Thanks. Man, there was so much I wanted to ask you yesterday, but my phrasebook really wasn't cutting it. Is this... Okay, is this translating all right? I'm not asking you anything outlandish? Should I talk slower?"

Junior threw up a "No" on his left lens. Equius also shook his head. "You sound natural to me. From context, I believe you're being correctly interpreted, at least within a reasonable margin. Although it's hard to say without more extensive testing."

Dirk bit the inside of his lip to keep his face straight. Coherence. He loved it so much. "You have time to do some testing with me? Your robots are incredible, and I want to know everything about you."

Surprise flickered across Equius's face, his spine straightening, and Dirk said, "I mean, like, your work. You as an engineer."

"Ah..." Equius said. "Yes, of course. I'm intrigued by you as well."

"Aw, shucks," Dirk said. "Hey, Seb?" Dirk tapped the workbench and Seb leapt off his shoulder, landing on one foot with his arms spread, posing like a trumpet-playing angel on a fountain. "I'm guessing you were interested in his balance, right?" Dirk asked.

Equius nodded. "It's quite impressive. I pride myself on the agility of my robots, but none of them handle quite this well."

Seb put his paw to his chest, preening. Dirk gave him a scritch between the ears.

"He's a great deal more responsive, too," Equius said. "I have no talent with self-teaching AI. Even with help from someone I find... rather difficult to collaborate with, their ability to learn is limited. I certainly can't make anything with a personality like his." Equius held out a finger to Seb who gave it a resounding slap with his paw.

"Uh, that's an Earth thing," Dirk explained. "He's expressing approval and companionship."

"Ah."

"Look, um... My computer will sass me if he finds out, but I honestly don't think I'm going to manage to do any business on this station, and you're the first person I've met I can have a decent conversation about this with, so I brought some schematics and software. If you'll tell me more about your work, and that crazy biotech computer, I'll be glad to set you up with an AI who'll talk back to you as much as mine do."

Equius removed his glasses. He had deep blue eyes and the kind of circles under them that spoke to a lot of late work nights. Or days, in his case. "That seems an uneven trade. Are you certain?"

"Yeah, but _just_ for you, 'cause I like you, okay? You can't tell anyone else, or you'll ruin me."

It definitely wasn't Dirk's imagination, this time. Equius's cheeks dusted with blue. Was he blushing? Or getting super pissed? Or asphyxiating? Probably not the last one. 

"I believe a pooling of our collective skill sets could result in some fairly revolutionary advances in the field of robotics. I would be greatly tempted to try."

" _Man,_ so would I," Dirk sighed. "But I'm shipping out tomorrow. We're hemorrhaging money right now. We're gonna hafta hit up the Alaksin System and try to sell them factory automation or we're never gonna recoup the cost of this trip." Dirk smiled. "But I'm glad I met you. And look, I'll share whatever I can before I leave, okay?"

Equius nodded slowly. "Yes. All right."

  


* * *

  
The next evening, Dirk was fast asleep, still ship-lagged, when a metallic fist knocked at the door to his quarters. Dirk pushed up on his hands, squinting at the door through a fluffy tangle of hair. "What is it," he grated, and cleared his throat. "What's. Who. Why?"

The door slid open and Squarewave vibrated in. "Dirk, they wanna load cargo,  
and I don't know the argot."

"Cargo?" Dirk echoed. He put his head back down, hugging a pillow to his chest. "What cargo? The biggest thing I sold was an external hard drive, and I already delivered that."

"No, bro, they wanna load it _on_ board,  
and it's a pretty sick hoard."

"I didn't order anything. They must have the wrong ship."

"Uh-uh, no mistake.  
It's your blue beefcake."

"Equius?" Dirk sat up straight. "He's here?"

"An' about a half a ton  
of merchandise, son."

"The fuck is goin' on?" Dirk mumbled. "Hang on..."

Dirk slid out of bed, splashed his face and slicked his hair back with water, pulled some clothes on, and headed for his door. Then he backtracked, stared at himself in the mirror again, and gelled his hair. "Come on, Junior," he said, grabbing his shades as he passed the bedside table. "Did we order something?"

"No" flashed in his left lens.

"That's what I thought."

As he approached the ship's main hatch, Dirk found Sawtooth and Seb already there, conversing with Equius, who had one of his smaller bots over his shoulder, and another under his arm. Well, the one actually conversing was Sawtooth, but the fact that he could meant Hal was helping.

Hal, who loudly declared, "Well, that's my cue to shut up!" as Dirk arrived. Everyone turned to look at Dirk.

Equius smiled. "Good evening, Dirk," he said. He set down the robots he was carrying and stepped forward. Equius curled a large, cool hand under Dirk's, lifting it gently to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Dirk's brain shorted, and all he heard for a moment was Squarewave's "Daaaamn, dogg!"

Dirk didn't move. Equius was talking, but Junior was pouring straight gibberish in his ear. There was something about squares and a mating dance and none of it caught on anything in Dirk's head long enough to shed light on the situation. It just tumbled on through. And then abruptly, Junior seemed to start working again, and Equius said, "I have a lot of these to load. I hope it isn't too many to store." And he turned and walked through the door.

"He's got three crates of them down there," Sawtooth said, peering out the hatch.

"What's... what's happening?" Dirk asked.

Junior flashed a row of question marks across both lenses. "Yeah, me too, buddy," Dirk said. "Junior, you can stop translating for now, okay? Listen, but no interpretation." A confirmation flashed. "Thanks. Hal?"

"Are we talking?"

"Hal, what's going on?"

"Well, we had a nice chat with Mr. Zahhak before you joined us, Captain," Hal said. "Apparently only Seb got an invitation to your wedding."

"My what."

"Yooooo," Squarewave howled.

"Hal, I'm only not throwing clogs because I'm tired. Stop being cute."

"He thinks you're married. I calculate a 99.99% chance that Junior had some trouble with highblood vernacular yesterday. Congratulations, though. He's a catch. And you did get the second safest quadrant. You should probably learn what those are before you get intimate. This time."

Equius returned with more robots over his shoulders and under his arms. Even given their light construction, it was a lot of weight he was toting like it wasn't even a thing. Dirk's eyes still stung at the light, but he watched that back recede down the corridor. Seb dashed after their guest, cartwheeled out in front of him, and led Equius off through another door.

"Where's Seb going?" Dirk asked.

"He's showing Equius where the storage bay is."

"Sure," Dirk said. "Hal?"

"Yes?"

"Okay, I'm talking to you."

"That's all I'm getting?"

"Hal."

Hal sighed. "Do you want me to explain the misunderstanding? I can let him down easy. It might be kinder to clear it up before he loads his entire inventory onboard."

Dirk walked to the door. On the dock below, there were indeed three large wooden crates. Only one was open, but judging by size, that was most, if not all, of the equipment and inventory from Equius's shop.

Dirk leaned back in. "Does he really think we're married?"

"It's called matespritship, but yes, at his age, it's as serious as marriage. This isn't dating—he thinks you're going to ride off into the sunset together."

Dirk was silent.

"I'll be gentle," Hal said. "He seems pretty nice."

"No..." Dirk said. He closed his eyes, brow furrowing as he performed some internal simulations. Slotted a large, cordial troll into a few situations. Lonely space voyages. Long hours at the workbench. Cramped captain's quarters. "No, don't."

"Dirk, you can't just—"

"If I apologize," Dirk said, "and admit I never should have set foot on this station without you riding shotgun, will you start translating for me again?"

"Yes, but mainly because I enjoy not being space dust."

"I apologize. You are a better computer than I deserve, and I love you very much."

"Okay, wow, you're smothering me."

"You're gonna translate?"

"Yeah, just don't get mushy on me. Jesus."

"Okay." Dirk grinned. "Then I wanna go talk to my husband."


End file.
